Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
Habit is a compromise effected between an individual and his environment.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
Our vulgar perception is not concerned with other than vulgar phenomena.
I speak for an art ... weary of its puny exploits, weary of pretending to be able, of being able, of doing a little better the same old thing, of going a little further along a dreary road.